


The Unholy Trinity

by 95liners



Series: diamonds in the rough - delinquents au [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: ALL TRIGGERS TAGGED IN FORENOTES, Gang & Mafia AU, Gen, Johnny is (for once) straight, Multi, and squeamish stuff, as well as blood, low-key polyamory???, set in the same universe, spin off of the svt gang au, violence is present
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 00:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/95liners/pseuds/95liners
Summary: "The three were always together, almost as close as Jeonghan and Jihoon, Seungcheol and Soonyoung were. They’d all been accepted in together, and the trust between the three was incredibly strong (a story for another time, though.)"; yuta, taeyong and johnny survive in a world that doesn't want them to.





	The Unholy Trinity

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERS; knife violence, knife in body parts, blood, violence, squeamish stuff
> 
> HELLO!
> 
> First of all, really important - this story deals with some more description of the gang violence than the SVT one, so please read the notes before the chapter! All triggers will be tagged there!
> 
> And, this has been a draft for almost a year now, and was planned ever since I first introduced the NCT 95z into the SVT gang AU one.
> 
> Please check that one out too (the texting one, and I swear I'll update it soon, at some point)

It was 11:42am on a Monday, and Taeyong wanted out.

Well, he wants that most days, but today especially. He had a chemistry test, which he hadn’t studied for, and a history essay, which he hadn’t written.

He sighed loudly, dropping his head on the table of the cafeteria, before immediately recoiling when he felt something sticky against his skin.

“Stop whining, Tae – you should’ve done it beforehand,” Johnny chided, not looking up from his food. Tch. Johnny always got good grades anyway – the only reason Taeyong was still there was because Yuta’s parents were rich enough to pay his fees, as well as his 25% scholarship for his dancing.

“Shut the fuck up, moral compass.” That earned him an indignant yell and bread thrown at his head, but Taeyong was too dead inside to care, only burrowing further against the stickiness on the table he’d thought was semen at first, but turned out to be a melted lollipop. He felt a soothing hand in his hair and held back the urge to moan. Thank God for Yuta.

“Leave him alone, Johnny – it’s not his fault he has the inability to work and the attention span of a 2 year old.” Ouch.

Taeyong shot up, hair askew and his cheek glistening from the lollipop.

“You know what? Fuck you both sideways.” And without missing a beat, both immediately responded in unison.

“Gladly.”

* * *

 It was 4:42pm on the same Monday, and Taeyong was sure he was dead and was in Hell.

After having to suffer a lecture from his history teacher, he then had dance practice, and something must’ve crawled up the ass of his teacher, because he was extra pissed today, making Taeyong do extra pirouettes when he almost slipped on someone’s water spill (or sweat. That was more likely).

Now, he had just finished, and was waiting for Yuta to pick him up – the youngest of the trio always picked him up after soccer practice, usually stopping to get bubble tea with Taeyong before making the rounds to see Seungcheol and the others, before meeting Johnny back at their apartment.

 _Their_ apartment, as in all three of them live together. It first started off as Yuta’s apartment – his parents are _loaded_ , and they don’t care about Yuta enough to let him live by himself, but they still let him splurge their money as long as he doesn’t buy a country. Taeyong was the second one to join, when his parents disowned him after finding him making out with the new Chinese exchange student on his bed. (They weren’t even dating, but Sicheng had a huge crush on Kun – another Chinese student – and Taeyong decided to teach the dude how to kiss). The last house member to join was Johnny, when his parents and sister died in a car crash. He was supposed to live with his aunt, but she was a drunk and didn’t care where he lived, so he let her be his legal guardian, and lived with Yuta and Taeyong until he became an adult.

“Yo, asshole!” Taeyong’s head shot up, spotting an also sweaty Yuta in the distance, a few of his teammates next to him. He jogged over, nodding in greeting to the others – Yoonoh and Dongyoung, if his memory didn’t actually fail him for once.

“See you, Yuta hyung!” the one with orange hair – Dongyoung? – said, grinning before dragging the other behind him. Yuta grinned back at them, before taking Taeyong’s arm and linking their elbows together. According to “ _everyone in the entire fucking_ school” ( ~~thanks, Johnny~~ ), he and Taeyong were still one of the clingiest best friends ever, even rivalling that dancing duo that were seniors when Taeyong and Yuta were younger (Hansol and Byungjoo – legendary throughout the school). Yuta made up for Johnny’s incredible heterosexuality and lack of affection, and he had been friends with Taeyong longer, so he automatically knew the best ways to fix that angsty, little part of the blond that liked to visit him every few hours.

“How was dancing today? The old man pound talent into you again?” Yuta quipped, soaking in the afternoon chill on his sweat-soaked skin. Taeyong hummed softly, adjusting the straps of his bag on his shoulder, already feeling the dull ache settling into his muscles.

“He was extra pissy today – I reckon some upstart young kid realised his hair isn’t real and called him out on it, and he was fighting his second midlife crisis whilst trying to kill me via pirouettes.” Yuta laughed, body shaking with mirth slightly.

“I still don’t get how you don’t throw up after doing all those spins – especially that other dancing kid, Minhyun?”

“Minhyuk.”

“How does he do it? What the hell? That’s, like, some voodoo shit there.”

“It’s really not, Yuta –“

“Down!” Yuta yanked Taeyong down, as a soccer ball soared over their heads. They bobbed back up, Yuta shooting a venomous glare in the direction of the field, where Dongyoung and Yoonoh were, still.

“Oi, Yuta-hyung, you forgot your shit!” Dongyoung yelled, Yoonoh already running over as Yuta started to take off.

“Fuck, be back in a second, Yong-ie.” Taeyong watched as Yuta sprinted over to where the other two were, snatching his bag off Yoonoh and roundhouse-kicking Dongyoung in the ass. He could hear whooping and Yuta’s furious yelling, and felt perfectly content in his life at that moment.

* * *

 

It was 11:42 on that Monday night, and Taeyong could feel the knife twisting in his right thigh.

He’d gotten caught on his way out from the warehouse, and suddenly found himself tied to a chair with some old man twisting a sharp dagger into his flesh. Rotten teeth flashed in an ugly smile as Old Dude jerked it once more, causing Taeyong’s muscles to tense and a shaky “ _fuck_ ” to leave his lips.

“Did your little friends leave you behind?” Old Dude taunted, relinquishing his grip on the handle to grab Taeyong’s shoulders and shove him back against the chair. Every muscle in his body protested, but the blond bit back his cries of pain.

If there was anything Jeonghan taught him, it was to keep shut and look tough.

When Old Dude realised Taeyong wouldn’t speak, rage filtered across wrinkled features and a hand reared back to slap him. Hard.

Taeyong fell to the side with the force, the chair following and his head cracked on the hard ground. Pain laced throughout, and his vision swam. When nausea crept in, Taeyong was convinced then that he’d probably gotten a concussion.

He was yanked up again by Old Dude, who now pulled the knife from Taeyong’s thigh and held it to his neck.

“I hope you’re prepared to die here,” he snarled, spit landing on Taeyong’s cheek and jaw. With every last bit of strength he had in him, Taeyong twisted his features into a pained smirk.

“Only if you come down with me.”

At that, the silence around them burst into chaos. Two people crashed through the windows on either side of Old Dude and Taeyong, and in a matter of seconds had him down on the ground. Hands grappled with Taeyong’s binds behind him, and soon he was freed from the chair. Yuta then came into view, quickly ripping Taeyong’s jeans so he could dump half a bottle of water onto the deep wound and push a clean rag onto it.

“Ah, _fuck_!”

Yuta muttered an apology before sliding an arm around Taeyong’s back, muscles tightening as he hefted the elder up and helped him limp out of the room and warehouse. Johnny was waiting outside in the van, two others with him with medical supplies.

As soon as Yuta set Taeyong down, they got to work; antiseptic and whatever else medical garbage they used on cuts. All Taeyong registered was shooting pain, and two pairs of hands on his body – one stroking his hands and sides, and the other carding through his blond, sweaty hair.

Soon enough, Taeyong was bandaged up and propped up against Johnny’s chest, Yuta tracing calming circles into his uninjured thigh. The two medics – Hongbin-hyung and Hyuk – were packing up when the other pair came back from the warehouse.

Choi Seungcheol and Kwon Soonyoung – legendary throughout the Angel’s Den. They’d been in the gang for _years_ , and had worked their way up through the ranks. Both were best friends with Yoon Jeonghan, the heir to the Den, and had known him since they were all children.

But not only were they known for their connections, but their talents. Seungcheol and Soonyoung were two of the most accomplished fighters in the gang, and were known for their fast-thinking and ruthlessness. Part of the reason Taeyong didn’t feel as nervous about this mission was because he knew that Seungcheol and Soonyoung were there, and they were watching.

Despite the fact that they were, you know, in a _gang_ didn’t mean everyone didn’t look out for each other.

“You feeling alright, Taeyong?” Seungcheol asked as he climbed into the van, peeling off a bloodstained shirt and accepting a wet cloth to wipe his stomach down. Soonyoung nodded as he followed suit, stripping down to his boxers in an attempt to rid the rapidly-drying blood.

“Y-Yeah … still hurts like a bitch, but I’ll get used to it,” Taeyong muttered, shifting and letting Johnny pull him further up against his chest, before relaxing again. Seungcheol nodded, leaning over to pat his arm carefully before sitting down.

“You did good today, man. You handled that old shit-bag well, and showed us your strength. I think you’ll survive yet.”

* * *

 It was 01:42 the next Tuesday morning, when Taeyong finally fell asleep sandwiched between his best friends, with a dark bruise on his cheek and a tender knife wound on his right thigh.

**Author's Note:**

> (can totally believe I procrastinated this until it was almost a year)
> 
> don't hesitate to drop some reviews. Obviously I can't control how you react to my work, but it'd be best appreciated if flaming (unnecessary) hate wasn't thrown at me. Unless it's for a genuine reason because then I probably agree.
> 
> anyway please enjoy


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